


In Flight  (The Wide Open Spaces Remix)

by inksheddings



Category: due South
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-24
Updated: 2011-04-24
Packaged: 2017-10-18 14:28:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/189838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inksheddings/pseuds/inksheddings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ray wants to be out there, working out which asshole set him up.  But no, he's in the Canadian Consulate, in Fraser's office, playing connect-the-dots without so much as numbers to guide the way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Flight  (The Wide Open Spaces Remix)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [keerawa](https://archiveofourown.org/users/keerawa/gifts).
  * Inspired by [When the Walls Close In](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11724) by [keerawa](https://archiveofourown.org/users/keerawa/pseuds/keerawa). 



> Thank you so much, keerawa, for the inspiration of your work.
> 
> Thank you, my fabulous Italics Wrangler Extraordinaire, whymzycal, for helping me whip this into shape.
> 
> There are spoilers for "Asylum" throughout the story.

Ray is getting dizzy, craning his neck to get a good look at Fraser's ceiling. He hasn't been able to make sense of all the pencil marks Fraser had probably drawn as some sort of bizarre act of redecoration, and it sure as hell hasn't been enough to cut it as a decent enough distraction. Ray wants to be out there, working out which asshole set him up for Volpe's murder. But no, he's in the Canadian Consulate, in Fraser's office, playing connect-the-dots without so much as numbers to guide the way. Ray's getting used to feeling frustrated, especially since he hooked up with the Mountie, but at least Fraser-type frustration has the potential to make Ray laugh. This? Not so much.

Ray lies down on the cot, hands behind his head, and closes his eyes. He doesn't expect he'll be able to sleep, but he still startles when Fraser walks into his office and closes the door behind him and Dief. Dief barks and makes a beeline for Ray, who for once doesn't actually feel like griping about wolf slobber. Dief whines like he's been the one locked up for the better part of the day and night and he wants to trade hard luck stories. Ray sits up and scritches behind his ears.

"Yeah, yeah, it's okay, Dief. Get yer licks in, go— Aw, hell, not in my mouth! Ugh. Disgusting, get off!"

So much for commiseration.

"I'd hoped you were getting some rest, Ray," Fraser says as he hangs his hat. "While, under current circumstances, I'm sure it must be difficult—"

Ray stands up, frustration turning rapidly into adrenalized anticipation. "Whatcha got? Come on, keep me in the loop here."

Fraser tells him about his conversation with Tibbet and what she said about getting a tip from some guy who worked for Cahill. Ray paces, trying to work it all out in his head. Another pizza — this time with the goddamn pineapple — might help. But it's hard trying to keep himself together, having to trust Fraser to do it for him, when in the morning he may very well walk out of the consulate in cuffs.

Ray stops pacing and leans his head back, hands clasped behind his neck. He should count backwards from ten, try to calm down. Crap, he'd have to count from a billion.

He finds himself looking at the pencil marks again, only now — with the perpetrator of said marks here in the room with him — they're working better as a distraction. Ray still can't make sense of the dots. But damn, it has to be easier than trying make sense of his own messed-up situation. He could just ask Fraser what they're all about, but it's not likely he'd get a straight answer. So he asks a different question.

"What's that bigger dot supposed to be?"

Frasier steps closer and follows Ray's line of sight. "Ah, that would be Denab."

Ray waits for elaboration, then rolls his eyes. "Yeah, that clears things right up, Frase."

"My apologies, Ray, your question was rather specific in scope and sequence."

"Specific _this._ "

"Right. As I was saying—"

"As you weren't saying."

"—Denab is a star. It is 63,000 times brighter than the sun. Its name is derived from Arabic, literally the 'bottom of the hen.'"

"Lovely."

"Shall I continue, Ray?"

"By all means."

"Ah, just a second." Fraser opens a desk drawer and takes out a ruler. He points it up until it's touching the ceiling. "So. Denab. And you see this one here?" Fraser asks, pointing the ruler at a smaller dot. "This is Sadr. To the left of that is Gieneh, to the right is Delta Cygni. And here, Ray, is Albireo. Together," Fraser says, sweeping the ruler gracefully from dot to dot, "they make up the constellation Cygnus, also known as The Swan."

Ray follows the movements of Fraser's hand, but without his glasses—

"Here, Ray."

Ray takes the glasses from Fraser, who once again makes his pattern.

"Okay, yeah, I guess I can see it," Ray lies.

Fraser eyes him sternly, lips pursed.

"Okay, nah, I don't see it."

Fraser just keeps looking at Ray, but the irritation fades from his features, turning into something more thoughtful. Then he seems to snap out of it, shaking his head slightly and walking back to his desk. "Perhaps you need more of a visual, then." Fraser puts the ruler down and takes green and blue permanent markers out of the top drawer. He pulls his chair over, directly underneath the dots in question, and climbs up.

Dief huffs in what sure-as-hell sounds like disgust and curls up at the foot of the cot.

Ray's with Dief on this one in thinking Fraser looks ridiculous — he has to hunch himself over slightly so he doesn't bang his head on the ceiling. But he guesses it does make it easier to reach.

Fraser darkens and widens the dots, then draws blue lines to connect them. "Denab represents the tail feathers. Gienah and Delta Cygni, the wings. Sedr, here in the center, is the body, while Alberio is the head or beak."

Ray turns his head sideways, looking at Fraser's handiwork. "It kinda just looks like a crooked cross."

Fraser lowers his arm but doesn't climb down. He looks at Ray more seriously than any guy should look, standing on a chair and drawing on the ceiling. Even that guy who painted that church's ceiling — Michael something? — probably didn't look this serious.

But Frasier just keeps on looking at him and says, "I'm not done, Ray."

Ray sweeps his hands out, palms up, indicating that Fraser should continue. This time, Fraser uses the green marker.

"It's really a lovely story, though definitely tragic, as myths often are. Phaethon, son of Helios — the Greek sun god — convinced his father to let him drive his sun chariot across the sky. Phaethon thought he had something to prove, as youth often does." Fraser starts drawing around the dots and lines, the outline of a swan — beak and feathers and wings outstretched — taking shape as he keeps talking. "Unfortunately, Phaethon was reckless. He drove too fast and he, well, lost control, leaving fiery destruction in his wake. His own father shot him down with a lightning bolt to prevent even more destruction. Phaethon fell into a river. His best friend, Cygnus, jumped in to save him, but was too late. Overcome with grief, Cygnus died as well. There. Do you see it now, Ray?"

But Ray has stopped looking at the drawing and turned his attention toward Fraser instead, still looking ridiculous on that chair.

"What the hell is 'lovely' about that?" Ray asks.

Fraser sighs and rubs at his forehead, then climbs down from the chair and puts it back by the desk. "Well, I do recall mentioning that it was also tragic. Still, Helios was touched by Cygnus' display of love and devotion. He turned Cygnus into a swan and placed him among the heavens," Fraser explains, gesturing toward the ceiling.

Ray looks back up, sees the dark blue lines connecting the dots, and green feathers spread out, as if flying across the ceiling. Fraser did a pretty decent job. Despite its greenness, it really does look like a swan, graceful yet strong.

"You think I'm reckless, Fraser?"

Fraser is pretty obviously caught off-guard. He actually looks surprised at Ray's question. Ray wants to take the question back, but it's too late. He's stuck with whatever judgment Fraser lays at his feet.

"I think, Ray, that you are devoted."

Ray holds his breath. He struggles to tear his eyes away from Fraser, but in the end he manages to look back up at the ceiling. As beautiful as the swan is, up there on the ceiling, it has no place to go.

Ray exhales loudly and gives himself a whole-body shake. Enough weirdness. They have a pizza to order and a crime to solve.

"I'll tell Sandor to make sure there's pineapple on your pizza," Fraser the Mountie Mind-reader says.

And just the fact that Fraser knows him so well, trusts that he's not a murderer, and even freaking _likes_ him … Aw, hell.

Ray eyes Fraser, then bops his head toward the ceiling.

"Show me another one," Ray says.

Fraser smiles, reaches out, and hands Ray a marker.

 

 **end**


End file.
